


A Cinderella Story

by Tallulah_Rasa



Series: These Days [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Friendship, Gen, meaning of life stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 06:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2056533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tallulah_Rasa/pseuds/Tallulah_Rasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack dreams of paths and old and new, and Daniel’s still by his side -- though usually not in a tiara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cinderella Story

**Author's Note:**

> This was a response to something I ran across a while back, about the ways various writers might rewrite the Cinderella story. While some people could no doubt rewrite Cinderella as erotica, satire, or mystery, I used it as a prompt for a Jack-Daniel story. Make of that what you will. 
> 
> This is part two of a Jack trilogy, though I didn't know that when I was writing it. The first part, "If You Know the Candle Light is Fire...," takes place at the start of Season 8. This part takes places when Jack's in D.C., and the last part "Half-Life," is a post-retirement story.
> 
> Oh, and...this isn’t a crossover, but it might make more sense if you’re familiar with "Magnum, P.I.", the old Tom Selleck show from the 80s. If you’ve never seen it, Magnum was a private eye in Hawaii with a borrowed Ferrari and a bunch of long-suffering, but loyal, friends. 

"Well, _this_ is interesting," Jack said. 

Daniel looked down at his gown – a heavily ruffled number in a tasteful shade of peridot – and pointed his wand at Jack.  "It's your dream," he said with a shrug. 

Jack shifted on his stool, moving prudently away from the filthy hearth, and stabbed at a pile of ashes with his broom.  "Nightmare, more like it," he muttered. 

Daniel grinned.  "Po-ta-to, po-tah-to.  Which is actually the name of an indigenous life form on P38-X72, and—" 

Jack silenced him with a look. 

Daniel waved his wand experimentally.  Nothing happened.  "Apparently, I'm an empty symbol; totally ineffectual," he observed.  "That's…disturbing." 

"That bothers you more than the gown?" Jack asked. 

"Again, your dream," Daniel said.  "Which means I'm not me, but a projection of some part of you.  And anyway, gowns aren't unheard of as male attire.  In certain primitive cultures, they were—" 

"Daniel.  Are you seriously going to lecture me even in my _dreams_?" Jack demanded. 

Daniel cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.  "I don't know.  Am I?" 

Jack sighed.  Daniel settled next to him on the hearth, sending up a puff of ashes.  Jack thought about asking why Daniel was wearing combat boots, but decided against it.  "I don't need rescuing," he said instead. 

"No, you don't," Daniel agreed. 

"I'm perfectly capable of – of all the things I _should_ be perfectly capable of," he continued, and even _he_ could hear that he was whining.  Daniel didn't call him on it, which just made it more obvious that Daniel was a projection of his subconscious, but Jack kept talking, anyway.  "And I don't feel like I'm missing the big dance." 

"Well, you probably do, a little," Daniel said. 

"I probably do, a little," Jack agreed.  "But a man can't keep crossing the galaxy forever.  And my work in Washington is…meaningful." 

"I believe you," Daniel said, and he gave Jack a sidelong glance.  "You don't by any chance feel that the Chair and Co-Chair of the Appropriations Committee are  your evil stepsisters, do you?" 

"No.  Though one of the aides _does_ remind me of the Wicked Witch of the West," Jack said.  "But look, the important thing here is that I'm not looking for someone to fix my life.  Or someone to _change_ my life.  I'm not even looking for a shoe." 

"But you _are_ looking for something," Daniel said. 

Jack thought about that for a minute.  "Maybe a path," he conceded. 

"Like…a set of coordinates?" 

"More like a map," Jack said. 

"To…?" 

"Not to.  Through." 

Daniel nodded at that.   

"Through the next part of my life," Jack added, in case Daniel hadn't understood.  

"So," Daniel said, sitting back heedlessly against the dirty grate, and looking far too smug, "You're looking for—" 

"Don't say it," Jack warned. 

"A myth," Daniel continued.  "Or--" 

" _Daniel._ " 

"A story," Daniel went on. 

"You can stop any time," Jack said. 

"What you might have, in the past, termed a rumor.  A lie.  A--" 

"A fairytale," Jack finished for him.  "I know, Daniel.  I get it." 

Daniel smirked.  "Just so we're on the same page." 

Jack rolled his eyes. 

Daniel hefted his wand.  "Your wish is my command," he said.  "Possibly, anyway, though in certain traditional myths the—" 

"I don't need a fairy godmother," Jack said, bumping Daniel's shoulder and  gently wresting the wand away from him. "And to be honest, I'm not sure you'd be the best choice, if I did." 

Daniel looked down at his gown, and then back at Jack, perplexed. "I'm your friend, Jack.  You know I'd do anything I could to--" 

"I know," Jack said.  "But you're a tad unreliable, Daniel." 

"Flaky on good day?" Daniel asked, eyebrows high. 

"You've died," Jack said. 

"Not permanently," Daniel pointed out.  "But…wait, is this is about your mortality?" 

"No," Jack said.  "Well, maybe."  He kicked off his slippers, which he'd just noticed were ruby red, and a little too small.  "And maybe…loss.  Reconciliation."  He looked at Daniel.  "The life well-lived." 

"Meaning of life stuff," Daniel summarized.  He smiled, and stood up, and in that instant he was wearing a robe like the ones he and Kasuf and Skaara had worn on Abydos.  The wind rose, ruffling Daniel’s hair as the sun rose behind him.  "It's funny you should mention that, because I just figured it out." 

"You…you figured out the meaning of life?" Jack asked, squinting against the blinding light. 

"Well, yeah," Daniel said.  He might have been nodding; Jack couldn't see anything but a dark figure haloed by the sun's rays.  "It's simple, really, it's—" 

He was interrupted by a prolonged honking, and when Jack looked around they were surrounded by trees, so really, they could have been anywhere.  Some of the trees melted away as night fell, cool and still, and then Teal'c drove up in a vintage red Ferrari. 

"Your carriage, O'Neill," Teal'c said with a flourish.  He was wearing a blaring yellow Hawaiian shirt, which Jack thought was better than Daniel's gown, but not by much. 

"That's not how the story goes," Daniel said, frowning. 

"I don't like pumpkins," Jack said.  "Pumpkin pie gives me gas.  And you have to admit; that's a nice car.  But never mind that --what were you saying about—?" 

But Daniel didn't answer.  Instead he looked up, frowned, and shook his head.  After a minute his head dropped as, with a sigh, he started glowing.  He gave Jack  a dejected half-wave as he began fading away, but Jack shouted "NO!" and lunged for Daniel's robe… 

and found himself tangled in a heap on his living room floor, with moonlight streaming in the window, a bemused Daniel looking at him from the couch, and a "Magnum, P.I." rerun on the TV. 

Jack took in the cartons from China Palace scattered across his coffee table, the disordered armchair he'd apparently fallen out of, the stack of budgets and mission reports testifying to Daniel's late-night prepping for yet another meeting with the Appropriations Committee.  "I did it again, huh?" he asked, rubbing his face with both hands before clambering back into his chair. "I _have_ to stop ordering the extra-spicy General Tso's." 

"What was it this time?" Daniel asked, putting down a folder marked "CLASSIFIED" in big red letters. 

"Cinderella, again," Jack said with a yawn.  "Ry’ac was visiting last week, and his kids wanted to hear it a few more times." 

"And was General Hammond your fairy godmother this time, too?" Daniel asked, trying to look serious but failing miserably. 

"No," Jack said.  "This time, it was you.  And instead of Sam showing up with a  motorcycle, I got Teal'c in…" He glanced at the TV.  "That car, actually." 

"Nice," Daniel allowed after staring at the screen for a moment. 

Jack nodded, and for a few minutes they watched Magnum bicker with Higgins.  
  
"I'm looking for a story to live by," Jack said when the commercials started.  "Or at least, that's what you told me in my dream." 

"Last time you had General Hammond telling you to complete your inventory forms," Daniel said, muting a commercial about the new, improved Veggie-Matic.  

They shared a look; a silent moment of tribute. 

"It turns out I _was_ behind on my paperwork," Jack finally said.  "So…you know any good stories?" 

"I know a few," Daniel said without cracking a smile. 

"Have you found yours?" Jack asked after a minute, as he watched the Veggie-Matic make perfect little radish rosettes.  "The story that tells you how to live, now?" 

"I'm still looking," Daniel said, and Jack heard the unspoken, _Everywhere.  Anywhere.  All the time._ "Sam says I'll probably have to write my own story."  He made a face.  "But you – you're not going with _The Wizard of Oz_  anymore?  Friendship, adventure, the fight against evil, following the yellow brick road? It's a good story, you know." 

"And it's got flying monkeys," Jack said.  "But it doesn't tell you what happens after Dorothy gets back to Kansas.  And Teal'c told me the Wizard kind of reminds him a Goa'uld." 

"Ouch," Daniel said. 

"Yeah," Jack said. 

"I'll be in town another few days," Daniel said, straightening out a few file folders.  

"Are you saying that's more than enough time?" Jack asked.  "Or barely enough?  How long does this storytelling take, anyway?" 

"Depends.  Some stories are longer than others," Daniel said.  "There's _War and Peace_ , for example…" 

"We've already covered that, what with saving the world a few times," Jack said.  "So I guess we're left with fairy tales." He sighed. 

"Or TV," Daniel offered, squinting as Magnum roared across the screen after the bad guys, leaving a trail of skid marks in his wake.  "The stories of our particular culture are everywhere." 

"That sounds okay," Jack conceded.  "And you wouldn't have to wear a gown." 

"Or a tiara," Daniel said helpfully. 

"I didn't say anything about a tiara." 

"I just assumed," Daniel said.  "Didn’t General Hammond have a tiara when _he_ was your fairy godmother?"  

Jack shrugged.  "Argue with my subconscious," he said. 

"Pretty sure I already have," Daniel said with a grin.  "Any other requests?" 

"I'd like it if we could all live happily ever after," Jack murmured as he sank back into his chair, his eyes at half mast. 

The Magnum theme song welled up.  On the screen, Magnum's friends found him, as they always did.  In his living room, Jack’s best friend tossed a file folder onto the towering pile on the coffee table. 

"I'm done," he heard Daniel say, but that couldn't be right, because they weren't done yet, he knew.  But he was tired, so he let sleep pull him under, thinking about trails  – of breadcrumbs, of tire tracks, of stars – and hoping the ones he'd forged across the universe would, in the end, lead him home.  
  
End  
  


 

 


End file.
